Witness
by dayglo1
Summary: There were many witnesses to the end, both living and dead.
1. Aberforth

Title: Witness

Author: dayglo

Feedback: Yes, please! This is by far the longest and most complicated story I've ever written.

Disclaimer: Yeah, nothing's mine.

Spoilers: Whole series is game, but especially _Deathly Hallows_.

Author's Note: This is a new series I've written. In a review for my last HP story, winterlude left a very nice review suggesting I write a story about the characters' feelings after the battle. The same idea had been kicking around in my head for awhile, so I finally started hashing it out. Somehow, it grew into this monster. There are sixty chapters, each one is about a different character that appeared in _Deathly Hallows_. Some characters were alive at the end, some weren't, some featured prominently in the series as a whole but weren't mentioned much in this book, others were first introduced to us in the last book, but they were all in the story at some point. Each chapter discusses how the featured character is dealing with the aftermath of the battle and Voldemort's defeat in the hours, days, or weeks following. The chapters will be published alphabetically by first name. So, without further ado, here's Aberforth. Hope you enjoy!

Chapter 1: Alone

Aberforth was used to being alone.

Truth be told, he had been alone since his father was sent to Azkaban. Albus had retreated to Hogwarts and his studies and the accolades that awaited him there. His mother retreated into her life of caring for her mentally unstable daughter. And Ariana had retreated into whatever world it was that existed in her head.

Even once he'd started Hogwarts, he was still alone. It became apparent quite quickly to everyone there that he was not a copy of his brother. "He's no Albus, is he?" was something he'd heard more than one teacher whisper to another. Fellow students who were expecting another brilliant, sociable Dumbledore were sorely disappointed.

After his mother died, he was more alone than ever. Alone at school, all he thought about was Ariana. But at home, when he was alone with her, it was like she wasn't even there. Which she wasn't really, most of the time.

After Ariana died, he really was alone. He didn't talk to Albus for years, wandering around, eventually finding work at the Hog's Head. Once he'd worked himself into owning it outright, he got rid of all help. He was more comfortable alone.

Sure, he occasionally ventured into the world. He was a member of the original Order of the Phoenix, and he was peripherally involved in the fight against Voldemort, but mostly Albus knew to leave him alone. He'd managed to stay mostly uninvolved in the second war, hiding in his pub. If sometimes he was lonely, if sometimes he talked to Ariana's portrait, even though it never talked back, just so he had someone to listen to him, if sometimes he wished he had people in his life, well, that was just too bad. He was used to it. He'd been alone for almost a hundred years now.

When Albus died, he'd left the familiar confines of Hogsmeade and attended his brother's funeral. He tried to feel grief, but all he felt was a vague sense of regret. What it was he regretted, he wasn't entirely sure. He'd retreated back into his comfortable world and once again left the war alone.

Or so he thought. For some reason, with Albus dead, people felt like now they should go to him. Percy Weasley was in and out all year, wanting information, wanting to know what was going on with the Order, with his family. Aberforth always told him what he wanted to hear, and then sent him on his way. Then, a couple of months ago, Neville Longbottom had started coming out of Ariana's portrait. He came at least once a day, but he was bright enough to just take the food Aberforth gave him, and then leave. Aberforth had also reluctantly taken on the job of watching over Harry. Despite his determination to leave well enough alone, he felt compelled to look into the mirror every day, and when the boy asked for help, he had to give it. But, for the most part, he was still able to be alone.

Then, those three kids had popped in and disrupted everything. What they'd been thinking, apparating into Hogsmeade, he didn't know. But he'd saved them, then told them what they'd wanted to know. And, against his better judgment, despite his resolve to stay away from his brother's cockamamie plans, he'd helped them get into Hogwarts. And he'd honestly thought that that was the end of that. The foolish boy would get himself killed for Albus' cause, Voldemort would take complete control, and everything would go straight to hell.

But then, people had started appearing in his pub. Not people, kids. Lots and lots of terrified, sobbing, screaming kids. From what he could gather from their frightened babbling, the battle had started. Eventually, he realized that the mass of students was nowhere near everyone that attended Hogwarts. Then, as Order and DA members started apparating directly into the Hog's Head, he realized why. Students had stayed to fight. After he got the fighters into Hogwarts, and the students out of Hogsmeade, he was finally left alone. He'd stood there for several minutes, staring at Ariana's portrait, as she smiled blankly back at him. Finally, he'd sighed and entered the portrait. He had to fight. He was still sure they were going to lose, but he couldn't let these kids be willing to die for him, without trying to save them, too. He blamed it on the Gryffindor in him.

So now, here he was, two weeks later, still helping rebuild the castle.

Aberforth sighed as he assisted Professors Sprout and Flitwick with raising a section of wall on the right side of the castle. Once finished, he sighed, rubbing his wand arm. He'd done more magic in the past two weeks than he had in probably the last two decades combined. Aberforth could feel his 113 years in every one of his bones, it seemed like.

Turning around, he noticed that the two professors had already gone off to assist some students with another portion of wall. Grudgingly, he trudged along, reluctantly heading in their direction. He could only hope that the rebuilding would be done by the end of June.

He just wanted to return to his pub and be alone with his goats.

Next: Constant Vigilance


	2. Alastor

Thanks for the reviews! Here's Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody.

**Chapter 2**: Constant Vigilance

He'd looked away.

He hadn't meant to, hadn't even really realized he had, but he did.

Not that you could blame him. Voldemort himself had appeared in the air, scaring the bejesus out of Alastor. But he had kept a hold of himself, remembered his mission. Then, suddenly, he heard a sharp crack and felt a loss of pressure at his back.

That was when it had all gone to hell.

His eye had spun to the back of his head, checking to see if that bloody coward Mundungus really had disapparated (he had). His good eye was keeping an eye on Voldemort to his right. Neither one of them was watching the Death Eater to his left.

That was his fatal error.

For a split second, he had disregarded his own damn motto. He hadn't been watching everything and everyone around him.

Suddenly, he saw himself fall, the life already gone. And then Voldemort and the Death Eaters were gone as well, no doubt off to find the real Harry Potter. And there was nothing he could do about it. So instead, he just watched himself continue to fall, until his body was out of sight in the dark, dank stillness of the night.

Turned out, Harry hadn't needed him. The kid survived that night, then survived a whole year of bouncing from place to place, outrunning Death Eaters at every turn. Alastor had to give the boy his due; he had kept his head straight most of the time, rarely letting his guard down. And when he did, Hermione and Ron were there to pick up the slack. Damn good for a bunch of kids not yet out of school. He's still not sure what they were looking for, what Dumbledore had left them to find, but whatever it was did the trick. Voldemort was dead. Finally at peace, Alastor felt himself drift off into eternal nothingness.

Under the ground, beneath dirt and grime, a magic eye still spun, ever watchful.

In constant vigilance.

**Next**: Master Plan


	3. Albus

**Author's Note**: This chapter is the main reason it took me so long to post this story. Rowling created such an incredibly complex character in Dumbledore that it is extremely difficult (for me, anyways) to do him justice, to show both very divergent sides to the man. Whether you think I succeeded or not, please, let me know! In this chapter I reference a popular saying adapted from a quote by Robert Burns: The best-laid plans of mice and men often go awry. This quote also inspired much of this chapter. Hope you enjoy!

**Chapter 3:** Master Plan

It had been a perfect plan.

It was a simple plan. Harry Potter would die to defeat Voldemort, to save the wizarding world. It was unfortunate, tragic even, but unavoidable. It was the only way. Otherwise _everyone_ would die.

For ten years, Albus Dumbledore planned the boy's fate. For ten years, he thought of and took care of every possibility, every minutiae, every situation that might possibly keep the boy from becoming a martyr, a sacrificial lamb, the unwitting savior of the wizarding world.

But then he had actually gotten to _know_ Harry, and suddenly it had become much, much harder. He became too protective of the boy, reluctant to resign him to his fate, although he knew he would have to, eventually.

That was the begining of the end.

From them on, all of his best laid plans were torn to shreds. Soon, he was making mistake after mistake, all in a feeble attempt to forestall Harry's ultimate destiny. Waiting too long to tell Harry about his connection to Voldemort, waiting too long to tell him the prophecy, waiting too long to tell him about the Horcruxes, waiting too long for everything.

And then, of course, Albus had made his final error. The one error from which he could not recover, which he could not rectify or erase. In a moment of blinding weakness, he tried on the Resurrection Stone. He had all but guaranteed that he would not be around for the final stage of his own plan. Not only had he finally damned Harry to his fate, but he had damned the rest of the wizarding world as well. He was sure of it.

The end did not turn out quite as badly as he had feared, but it was bad enough.

He stares at the paper on Minerva's desk. He has no doubt that she purposely put it where he would be able to see it from his portrait. His eyes well as he looks at the long list of those who had died in the last battle. Twenty of them were current students, and the rest of them had been his students once as well, some of them very recently.

He had had a plan.

**Next:** Teams


	4. Alicia

Author's Note: Thank you to my faithful reviewers-Drusilla Braun, aptasi, and winterlude. I very much appreciate you feedback and advice. Thanks!

**Chapter 4:** Teams

She had been part of a team once.

She had been so excited, her third year, to finally make it onto the Gryffindor team, after being on the reserve the last year. Not only that, but their team was the best, almost perfect.

Then slowly they had broken apart, drifted away. It was what came with growing up, she knew. But still, it had felt as though she was losing her family, little by little.

She stands alone now, after the battle. She's in a corner of the Great Hall, just watching. She has no one to talk to, no one to ask her how she's doing. Her parents are muggles, they don't even know where she is, the danger she was in tonight. They think she's getting ready to go to her job in Diagon Alley.

So she stands, all alone.

Angelina had come up to her, briefly, right after the feast. Once they'd assured themselves the other was alive, Angelina had gone to look for George, to see how he was doing. Alicia snorted to herself. How he was doing. How did she think he was doing? Fred was dead. She willed away the tears that sprang to her eyes at that thought. Harry had disappeared during the feast, probably to hide. Oliver had found her, awhile ago. He'd spoken to her briefly, then gone off to search for Katie. Alicia spied Katie a few minutes later, but felt no urge to go tell her that Oliver was looking for her. He'd find her eventually. Instead, she watches Katie look out the window. Her hair is mussed, and even from this distance, Alicia can make out a dark cut on her cheek. 'She really should have that looked at', she thinks idly. But she cannot seem to find the impetus to go tell Katie that, or to hunt down a healer.

She sees Oliver reenter the Great Hall. This time, he makes a beeline for Katie, and Alicia watches as they talk. Or rather, as Oliver talks. Katie just stands there, and looks out the window as the twilight wanes to darkness. Minutes later (or perhaps hours, she's long since lost track of time on this interminable day), Angelina enters the room, bringing with her a recalcitrant looking George and an exhausted looking Harry. Harry and Angelina converse briefly, Angelina pointing at Katie and Oliver at the window and Harry nodding. Angelina heads toward the duo, with George trailing reluctantly behind her, head hung low. Harry makes his way towards Alicia. At least, that's what she thinks he's trying to do. Every time he takes a step, someone else approaches him wanting to talk to him, hug him, congratulate him. He takes it in stride, but it is obvious that he has somewhere else to be (or at least, it's obvious to Alicia, no one else seems to notice). Finally, he reaches her. They stand, looking at each other, neither saying a word. Eventually, Harry speaks, pointing at the rest of their team at the windows. "We're going to go say good-bye to Fred now." She nods her understanding, and he walks away, heading to join the group. Alicia stays rooted to her spot for a moment longer, then begins to move.

It's time for the team to be together, one last time.

**Next**: Coping


	5. Andromeda

**Author's Note:** Thanks so much for the reviews! And to answer winterlude's question, I didn't include Alice Longbottom because she didn't appear in DH. In order to keep the number of characters to a manageable amount, I only included ones who were physically present at some point in the book. Dumbledore was included because he was present, albeit in a painting. And while some ghosts do appear in later chapters, Lily, James, and Sirius will not, as they were more apparations than actual ghosts. Now, onto the story. Here's Andromeda, enjoy!

**Chapter 5:** Coping

Andromeda poked her head into Teddy's room. Reassured by the sight of a chubby fist waving in the air, she went to the dining room. Pulling out parchment and a quill, she sat down and got to work. After all, she had a lot to do. She needed to plan Ted and Dora's funerals. 'Remus', too', she thought. Andromeda knew that his family had all but disowned him once he'd been bitten. She continued her list. This was good. As long as she kept busy, she was okay, she wasn't a sobbing mess. She smiled slightly, as she listened to Teddy gurgling happily in his room, then resumed her writing. She couldn't afford to be a mess. Teddy needed her. Andromeda looked at her list of funerals. She paused.

Bellatrix.

Her big sister.

Her daughter's murderer.

Her hand wavered over the parchment, before dropping the quill. She couldn't bring herself to write the name. Cissy could take care of that one. Andromeda would give Molly Weasley a hug and a thank you.

Ten minutes later, she had finished with her list of the tasks and arrangements she needed to do in the coming days. Taking a break, she went to check on Teddy, who was still lying in his crib amusing himself. Andromeda paused at the door to his nursery, the nursery Dora had planned and Remus and Ted had decorated. This one room and all in it was the only reminder she needed as to why she had to go on, no matter what. Placing a smile on her face that was only partially forced, she entered the room, heading straight to the crib. At the sight of her grandson, Andromeda's carefully composed mask, painstakingly constructed shield, crumbled. A primal cry fought its way out of her throat, a pain beyond words. She fell to the ground sobbing, unable to bear the grief that had finally bubbled over, scalding her raw. The finality and totality of what she had lost consumed her. Confused, the tiny baby peered curiously between the crib bars at his weeping grandmother on the floor.

Teddy's hair was his mother's favorite shade of shocking pink.

**Next**: Captain


	6. Angelina

Chapter 6: Captain

She was never meant to be captain.

She had thought she could do it, thought she knew how. After all, she had watched Oliver be captain for three years. Surely, she could do it, too.

But she couldn't. She couldn't keep Fred and George from leaving, she couldn't keep Harry from getting detention after detention, she couldn't get Ron to swallow his nerves. It seemed like all she had was problem after problem, and the whole time, that entire _year_, she just kept thinking, "Oliver would have known what to do."

After the feast, she wanders the castle, looking for what's left of her team. She sees Oliver leave the Great Hall before she can talk to him, but she knows he can take care of himself. Angelina finds Alicia standing in the middle of the room, looking lost and alone. She talks to her for awhile, then continues on. She catches Katie on her way out, and converses with her, as well. She searches for Harry and Ron for almost fifteen minutes before it occurs to her where they probably are. Sure enough, when she enters the Gryffindor common room, she finds Ron, Hermione, and Ginny sitting in the chairs.

Ron approaches her immediately and points up the stairs. "Harry's in there."

She nods. "He okay?"

A darkness she is not used to seeing on Ron's faces passes over it. "Oh yeah, he's just bloody great."

Angelina ignores Hermione and Ginny's admonishing shouts of "Ron!" and continues to look straight at him. "You know what I mean."

He shifts from foot to foot, ashamed and apologetic. "Yeah, sorry." He takes a deep breath. "He's as well as you'd expect." Finally, he brings himself to look her in the eyes. "We both are." Angelina nods and turns to find the last living member of her team, when Ron's voice stops her. "You could check on George though, maybe." Angelina turns around and silently stares at him. Ron continues to bounce from foot to foot, faster and faster. "He's hiding in the DADA classroom. Mum's with him, I think, but…" His voice trails off, courage leaving him.

She nods to show her understanding, putting him out of his misery. "I'll do that, thanks."

Molly is indeed there, standing outside the classroom door, tear tracks down her face, staring nervously at the door that no doubt conceals her son. She turns at the sound of approaching footsteps. At the sight of Angelina, her face lights up, then just as quickly crumples. "Oh! Angelina!" Before she can get a word out, Angelina finds herself swept up in Molly's arms. She pats the woman awkwardly, but also holds onto her for dear life. Eventually, Molly steps away, dabbing at her eyes with her sleeve. "I'm sorry, dear, I just…"

For the second time in an hour, Angelina spares a Weasley. "It's okay, Mrs. Weasley." She watches as the older woman glances back at the still closed door. "Why don't you go take a break? I think I saw Mr. Weasley over by the Transfiguration classroom." Molly opens her mouth to speak, then shuts it, once again looking guiltily back at the door. Angelina understands. "I'll stay out here with George."

Relief and gratitude flood her face. "Thank you, dear." Angelina watches her go, then settles herself for a long wait.

Hours later, Oliver sits next to where she still is on the step, her arms curled around her long legs, chin resting on her knees. She doesn't move, doesn't look at him, makes no indication that she knows he's there. She does, of course. He looks at her for a moment, then turns to stare at the same spot of nothingness that she is. "I think we need to go say good-bye to Fred." This gets her attention. She turns her head to look at him, although she can't seem to muster the strength to lift it off of her knees. He's still not looking at her. "All of us, as a team."

She nods. "Yeah, that'd be good."

Oliver turns his head to her, brow furrowed. "Now we just have to find everyone."

Angelina resumes her staring contest with the point on the wall she's been so fascinated with. "Katie and Alicia are both in the Great Hall. Harry is hiding in his dorm." She pauses, then looks behind her at the door she guards, gesturing to it with her thumb. "George is in there."

He looks at her in surprise. "Do you know I've spent three hours looking for everyone? Besides Alicia, you're the first one I've managed to find."

She returns to her previous position. "Sorry."

"I'll go get Katie, why don't you talk to George?"

Angelina nods, already mentally preparing herself for the war of words and wits that will no doubt ensue. "Yeah, okay."

Oliver gets up, ready to leave, "Let's meet in the Great Hall in an hour then, ok?"

From behind the still closed door they both hear George's muffled but clear voice. "I'M. _NOT_. GOING!!"

Angelina sighs and runs her fingers through her hair, already too exhausted, and the fight hasn't even yet begun. She looks up at Oliver. "We better make it an hour and a half."

Oliver blinks, surprised, and glances back and forth between the closed door and Angelina. Finally, he nods. "Okay, then." He begins to leave, then stops and turns back around. "See if you can get Harry too, okay? Alicia should still be in the Great Hall." She nods, ever faithful, then gets up herself.

She waits until Oliver has left, then she rounds on the door. Putting on an air of authority she's not sure she ever had, and pulling from a well of strength she's not sure even exists, Angelina flings it open.

**Next:** Keeping the Grounds


	7. Argus

Thanks for the great reviews! Good to know people are still reading and still enjoying it!

**Chapter 7:** Keeping the Grounds

Argus grumbled to himself as he made the journey from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts. He'd been told it was safe to return, and figured he should see what kind of mess had been left behind. He just knew it would take him most of the summer to clean it up.

Muttering curses, he continued to pick his way towards the castle. Upon hearing the news of safety, others had apparated directly to the site. Right in front of him! They were mocking him, he knew it. Parading their magic in front of him. One had at least offered a side-by-side appartition, but Argus hated those, they made him sick to his stomach. Besides, they were just another reminder that he couldn't do it himself, as though he were a stupid child. Finally, he reached the Hogwarts grounds and allowed himself and Mrs. Norris through the gate, which was no longer locked.

He stopped dead at the sight in front of him. Half of the castle was missing. Great chunks had been taken out of Gryffindor tower, and there was rubble the size of automobiles littering the lawn. Filch made an abrupt about face and walked off of the grounds, Mrs. Norris trailing behind him. There was no way he was cleaning this one up. _They_ were the ones with magic, _they_ could do it.

**Next**: Blessed


	8. Arthur

Chapter 8: Blessed

"I've led a blessed life."

Arthur closed his eyes as he composed himself. Swallowing, he continued. "I've led a blessed life. I have a wonderful wife, seven beautiful children." He allowed a watery smile to cross his face for a moment. "Percy had just come back." He gulped. "I had _seven_ beautiful children again", he nearly whispered. Struggling with himself, he forced his voice to go on, even as sobs threatened to rack his thin body. "I have a job I love", he paused, "well, maybe not this latest one, but I loved working in the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office". This time, a real grin flashed across his face, although it was quickly tempered. "I have friends, and family. We might not be rich, but we've always had food in our stomachs, clothes on our backs, and a roof over our heads. Whatever trials we've faced, we've faced as a family, and we've always managed to bounce back, to heal and continue on." Arthur dragged a weary hand over his face. "I have a daughter-in-law I have grown to care for as though she were one of my own. I have two other children I consider my own, and they may well be my in-laws, someday." A ghost of a smile flashed across his face. "I have lived a long, wonderful life."

Arthur knelt at his son's body, as tears dripped off his nose.

"I only wish you could have been so blessed, my boy."

**Next**: Honor


	9. Augusta

Chapter 9: Honor

To be a Longbottom was to be honorable.

Longbottoms lived honorable lives and died honorable deaths.

There was honor in being a pureblood, for all that some had corrupted its beauty.

Her son had been an honorable man. He had fought against Voldemort, and had lost everything in doing so. It was Augusta's mission in life to ensure that her grandson kept up the family honor. As such, she has spent most of Neville's life pushing him harder, demanding more of him, trying to force him to be the son she had lost.

She keeps a letter in her top most dresser drawer, on the left. She'll never throw it away, though she's only read it once. Once was all she needed, Augusta knows she'll never forget what it says. She keeps it there to remind her "to be proud of the grandson she's got, rather than the one she thinks she ought to have". Minerva always did have a way with words. The letter also reminds her not to bother Neville about taking Charms.

Sitting ramrod straight on a bench in the Great Hall, Augusta watches as Neville shows the sword of Gryffindor to a group of first years, returned to get their things. Suddenly, she is aware of movement beside her as Minerva sits. She looks at her former dorm mate, and notices the tiredness at war with the determination in her eyes. Sitting as straight as she, Minerva does not look at her. Instead, her gaze is on Neville. "He really did do splendidly, Augusta."

Her gaze drifts back to the boy, and she smiles softly. "He really did, didn't he?"

She is honored to be his grandmother.

**Next:** Obsession


	10. Bellatrix

Chapter 10: Obsession

She was fifteen the first time she heard of Him. (People still spoke His name then, but only in hushed whispers.)

She was eighteen when she received His mark on her arm. (It burned, but she didn't scream.)

She was nineteen when she decided she was in love with Him. (Even though she knew He could never love her.)

She was twenty-one when she married Rudolphus Lestrange. (It was what her parents wanted.)

She was thirty when He disappeared. (She thought she would go mad with grief.)

She was thirty-one when she was imprisoned for trying to find Him. (She still thinks she could have found Him, if she hadn't been.)

She was forty-three when He freed her. (Her mind was gone by then.)

She was forty-five when she died for Him. (He followed her soon after.)

She searches for Him now, but cannot find Him, no matter how hard she tries. (Maybe there really is a special Hell just for Him.)

**Author's Note**: I'm putting the finishing touches on the next batch of chapters. The next one should be up in a day or two. Thanks for reading and reviewing!

**Next**: Scarred


	11. Bill

Author's Note: Thanks for all the great reviews! Here's Bill Weasley, enjoy!

**Chapter 11**: Scarred

One day, a few weeks after the battle, when life had slowly begun to return to normal (or as normal as it could be, when your little brother was never coming home), Charlie and Bill had noticed their mother staring at their scars, shaking her head and clucking to herself about what beautiful little boys they'd once been. Charlie had remarked to him that perhaps they should stop playing with werewolves and dragons. Their mother had been aghast, but Bill was glad to be able to laugh about it, finally. When George overheard and chimed in about wizards who couldn't aim straight, the three had laughed so hard they almost fell over, as their mother looked on in horror.

His scars were prominent, there for the whole world to see. But he wasn't the only one with scars. Just because you couldn't see them on some people didn't mean they weren't there.

Both Ron and Percy had escaped the war without physical marks. But Bill knew that they both carried heavy scars, eternal shame at abandoning friends and family. Sure, George had a missing ear, but that was not the scar that gave him the most pain, caused him the most grief. Even his beautiful wife, with porcelain skin and silver white hair, bore scars that she would carry with her always. Shortly after the battle, Bill and Fleur went to see her parents in France for a week, as a vacation. They had to leave after only a day. Fleur wept every time she saw a houself. Harry's scar had faded, you could barely see it anymore. But the events that that scar bore witness to cut him deeper than flesh and blood. His baby sister was covered in scars, having to see things she was far too young to see, having to take part in things she was far too young to do. His parents were scarred, scored to the bone by the loss of one of their children. Though they smile now, occasionally; though they have even laughed once or twice, they both carry a mark that will never go away. A wound that might eventually fade, but will never fully heal.

They all carried scars.

**Next:** Defense


	12. Charity

As always, thanks for the reviews! Here's Charity Burbage, enjoy!

**Chapter 12:** Defense

It had been her defense of Muggle-borns that had been her undoing. She knew she was putting herself in mortal danger, defending them. It was bad enough that her father was a Muggle, that put her at enough of a risk as it was. Not to mention her career had been spent teaching young wizards and witches how to better understand Muggles. It was pure lunacy to actually step up and speak out against their mistreatment. She might as well have stepped in front of a firing squad.

That might have been peferable to her eventual end.

She knows, although she is no longer in this life, she _knows_ there are worse ways to die than she did. She's heard of them, she's read about them. But at the moment, in this impossibly eternal moment she seems to be stuck in, she can't think of anything worse than hanging upside down, being mocked and tormented, knowing she was going to die. Pleading to someone she had once thought of as an ally, pleading for mercy, but seeing only dead, black eyes. She had only pleaded for mercy, she had not offered a defense.

She had had no defense.

She would not go back on her word, on what she believed. Even as she hung there, knowing she was going to die, so full of fear and horror it was choking her and spilling out with the tears that ran into her hair, even then, she could not, _would _not recant her defense. Her last memory is a pair of eyes, black as an eternal night void of stars, being swallowed whole by a flash of blinding green light.

And people wondered why she preferred Muggles.

**Next:** The Forgotten Son


	13. Charlie

**Chapter 13**: The Forgotten Son

He was six the first time his mother left him in Diagon Alley. She had taken all five children with her to pick up needed supplies. Somewhere between prying Bill away from his friends, prying Percy away from books, and prying Fred and George from whatever dangerous thing they had in their mouths at the moment, she forgot to pry Charlie away from the magical pet store. He didn't even realise she had left until she came back for him an hour later, when she finally noticed he was gone.

By the time he was eleven, his mother had taken to simply putting a bit of Floo Powder in his pocket whenever they went to Diagon Alley. It was easier than always having to drag all six kids back with her to get him.

When Bill left for Egypt at not quite eighteen, his parents begged him to reconsider, to work at the Gringotts in London for at least a year or two. When Charlie left for Romania at the same age, his father simply asked, "You sure you don't want to play for England?" When he responded in the affirmative, they nodded, and that was the end of that.

He knows he doesn't visit as often as Bill does, but then, he's never been like Bill. And he thinks that that's where the problem lies.

He doesn't return to England as quickly as Bill does, but he does return. And he can't just transfer his job to London, like Bill can. Besides, he did work for the Order while he was in Romania, too. These are the justifications he gives himself in the dead of night. He doesn't realize he's the only one who even considers him as having come back late.

He wonders if his parents even noticed that he had disappeared for over an hour during the battle, when he went to Hogsmeade, or if they had been too busy grieving Fred to think about him. And he hates himself for it.

It's been almost six weeks since the battle, and _finally_, he's ready to return to Romania. The castle's been rebuilt, and he's attended the funerals of more friends and family than he thought possible. He's been a good, dutiful son, been strong for his family, helped out at his school. It's time for him to go home now. His dragons are calling him. He's ready to be forgotten again.

**Next:** Choices


	14. Cho

Thanks for the reviews! Here's Cho Chang, enjoy!

Chapter 14: Choices

Her fourth year, in the midst of a heated Quidditch game, Cho was forced to make a lightening quick decision. Point out the dementors she had spotted on the ground, and risk Harry being injured, but Ravenclaw probably winning the game, or not saying anything, but probably losing the game. Even now, she tells herself she made the right choice. After all, she hadn't known him then. He was just another seeker in another Quidditch match. She did what she had to to try to win. But she's still glad he wasn't hurt. She doesn't know if she'd have been able to live with that.

She had had to make a choice, her fifth year. Accept Harry's invitation, or go to the Yule Ball with Cedric. She's still not sure whether that was the right choice. Choosing Harry would have kept her from getting her heart broken by Cedric's death. But maybe it would have simply led to greater heartbreak the next year. And maybe, just maybe, the time she did have with Cedric was worth the grief she felt later. That's the thing about choices; you never know what the ultimate outcome will be.

Then, came another choice. Harry or Marietta. Would she side with her best friend since her first year, or would she choose the boy she was quickly developing feelings for?

She chose Marietta, her sixth year.

And again, after graduation, when she decided to share a flat with her.

She thought she was done with hard choices, tough decisions. Then a half-forgotten galleon lying on her dresser began to change around its edge.

Marietta begged her to stay. Cajoled her, mocked her, threatened her. But Cho turned her back on her quiet, peaceful life and answered the call of her DA galleon. And even now, as she lies in St. Mungo's, slowly healing, she knows what she knew the moment she stepped back into the Room of Requirement.

She had finally made the right choice.

**Next:** Lament


	15. Colin

**Chapter 15:** Lament

Oldest son

A special one

Wizard's school

His brother too

Pictures he did take

Petrified by the snake

DA meetings

Progress fleeting

Muggle born

Hidden from scorn

Heard the Galleon's call

Went to fight them all

Foolish boy

Life's a toy

Danger's fun

Caught this one

A flash of green light

The defeat of valor's might

The game is done

The child is gone

No more breath

So small in death

This is a lament for Colin Creevey

**Next:** Once a Child


	16. Dean

**Chapter 16:** Once a Child

He had been a child once.

He had played in his front yard and spent hours painting in his room.

He had gotten so excited at receiving the letter from Hogwarts he accidentally set it on fire.

He had made friends, gone to classes, goofed off, studied, laughed, and mourned.

He had traded quips and stories with Seamus, and stood by Harry when he needed him.

He had played Quidditch and fallen in love, and through both he had learned how to handle both victory and defeat.

He had been a child once.

Before he'd fled his home in the dead of night, never knowing if he'd see his friends or family again.

Before he'd become a fugitive in his own country, hunted by his own kind.

Before he'd seen Ted Tonks murdered in front of his eyes.

Before he'd heard Hermione being tortured.

Before he'd left her there, to save himself.

Before he'd fought a battle.

Before he'd won a war.

He knew he wasn't a child anymore.

**Next:** Sense


	17. Dedalus

Thanks for all the reviews! I always appreciate your comments, now here's Dedalus Diggle, enjoy!

Chapter 17: Sense

It had made sense to him at the time.

When Mad-eye and Remus had asked him to look after Potter's muggles, he had readily agreed. Anything to help with the cause, anything to help Harry Potter.

These muggles made no sense to him at all. A member of their family was risking death at every turn to save not only the magical world, but theirs as well, and they looked upon him with disdain, disgust, maybe even hatred.

Nine months is a long time to stay cooped up in a house. It's an even longer time when you're stuck in it with three muggles who abhor magic. Mr. Dursley forbade him and Hestia from doing magic when they first moved to the safe house. However, he gave up after a week, when it becamed obvious that they couldn't do much without it, particularly in a house not really set up for muggles. But he still turned red everytime one of them said a spell. Mrs. Dursley's mouth would look even more pinched, and Dudley would flinch.

Dedalus learned to stay out of sight as much as possible.

One of the hardest things about his time in hiding (besides the muggles, of course) was their complete lack of information. He and Hestia had no idea what was going on, if Harry Potter was dead, if Voldemort had won, or lost (although they both agreed that they would have heard _something_ if one of those three things had happened). Instead, they just waited, day after day, in that little house, waiting for the end to come.

Whatever end that might be.

It came, eventually.

Not like he had feared, with Death Eaters crashing into the house, bringing death and destruction to its occupants. Instead, it came in the form of a letter, attached to a large, tawny owl. Dedalus got to it first, and Hestia read it over his shoulder. It wasn't a proper letter, as it had obviously been scrawled hastily on a spare piece of parchment. However, its meaning was loud and clear-_The Boy Who Lived has won! He Who Must Not Be Named is defeated!_

Their shouts of joy would have been heard for blocks, if it weren't for the charms in place.

They later received more information, in proper letters. Kingsley (er, Minister Shacklebolt) sent them an owl telling them more details about Voldemort's defeat, and instructing them to stay with the muggles for a few more days, until the rest of the Death Eaters were rounded up.

A week later, Arthur Weasley showed up at their door. He looked older than Dedalus remembered, and he immediately feared the worst. It turned out, he was right. But Fred wasn't the only loss. He and Hestia sat on the couch in stunned silence as Arthur rattled off the list of dead, people they had known, worked with, cared for. Fred. Mad-Eye. Tonks. Lupin. Each name was like another blow to the heart. Then, when he had finished, Arthur looked Dedalus square in the eye, and told him his house was gone.

It was another week before he was able to see the destruction for himself. First, he had to help get the muggles settled back into their house, making sure no surprises had been left there by Death Eaters. Then there were funerals and meetings and talks and plans. But eventually, he knew he could not put it off any longer.

So, filled with dread, he finally returned to the place he had once called home.

But as he stared at his house, now nothing but burnt, smoldering ruins, he felt no grief. Even as he gazed upon all that was left of his earthly possessions, Dedalus Diggle felt nothing but a strange sense of peace, an almost overwhelming calm.

Then again, he never had had much sense.

Next: Free


	18. Dobby

Chapter 18: Free

Harry Potter had made Dobby a free elf.

For the first time, Dobby was free to do whatever he wanted. He was free to work where he wanted, when he wanted. He was free to earn money, to buy socks. Lots and lots of pretty socks.

So Dobby had freed Harry Potter.

Dobby had been a good elf for Harry Potter. He did whatever Harry Potter asked him to, he even looked after that bad, bad elf, Kreacher. Harry Potter was Kreacher's Master, but Kreacher was not loyal to him. Kreacher was a bad elf. Not Dobby, Dobby was a good elf. Dobby did everything he could to help Harry Potter. When Mr. Dumbledore told him to go save Harry Potter, Dobby did it, even though he was scared to be back in his Master's old house.

Dobby was free now of his Master's house, forever.

Dobby was free.

**Next: Justice**


	19. Dolores

Thanks for the reviews! Comments and suggestions are always welcome!

Chapter 19: Justice

Justice had been served when Albus Dumbledore died.

Killed by a Death Eater Dumbledore swore had left Dark Magic. A man he'd stood up for, vouched for. Dolores could have laughed (and did, later) at the irony. At how closely Dumbledore's relationship with Snape mirrored his relationship with the Potter boy. So it didn't surprise her at all when Potter took off before the school year started, when he became enemy #1. Of course Dumbledore would have made the same mistake with him, too. The old fool never did seem to realize who the correct people were to give allegiance and loyalty to. So they all let him down in the end.

Not like her, she knew who to pledge her loyalty to, and she knew when to change it. She was loyal to Fudge, until it became obvious that he was too weak, too inefficient to make the changes necessary at Hogwarts, in the wizarding world in general. She shifted her loyalty to Scrimegour easily, fluidly, without a second thought. And when he too fell under the pressure of greatness, she went to Thicknesse. Now, _finally_, she had found someone who had what it took to effect _real_ change. Her Muggle-born registration comission was only her first step towards purifying the wizarding world. They took those who had stolen magic and stole their freedom.

It had been justice, really.

If ever she suspected that it wasn't really Thicknesse who was in charge, if ever she felt that there had to be a greater power behind him (because, let's face it, Thicknesse wasn't really _that_ powerful), she ignored it. Under this regime, she was allowed to do what she wanted. She knew better than to question who her allegiance was really to.

Then came the end of her beautiful little world, of the life she was slowly building for the betterment of the magic. In one fell swoop, Potter destroyed her work, her power. Now she sits in a tiny little cell, dark and dank. No pink, no lace, no kittens. Just her. She sits and fumes at Potter, at Shacklebolt, and all those who led to her ruin. She is now relegated to the very same place she had sent those magic-stealing Muggle borns.

It was a travesty of justice.

Next: His Father's Son


	20. Draco

Author's Note: From Draco's POV.

Chapter 20: His Father's Son

He had always been his father's son.

Cocky. (Ambitious.)

Arrogant. (Self-assured.)

Superior. (Better than _them_.)

Mediocre. (Under appreciated.)

Moderately talented. (A natural at Quidditch.)

Dependant on naive friends. (Leader of faithful cronies.)

Friends willing to die for him. (Friends willing to leave him for dead.)

Hero. (Villain.)

Harry Potter had always been his father's son. (Draco Malfoy had always been his father's son.)

**Next:** The Letter

Author's Note: I'm finishing up the next batch of chapters, the first should be up sometime this week (schoolwork permitting). Thanks for reading!


	21. Dudley

**Chapter 21:** The Letter

He didn't know what to say.

No matter how hard he thought, how often he ran his chubby hands through his blond hair, the words just wouldn't come out. He sat all night in that hard chair, in his tiny room, in that blasted hiding house, listening for his father, making sure he didn't find him. But he couldn't come up with the words. His pudgy hand wavered over the paper, gripping the pencil so tight he broke it.

He couldn't bring himself to say "I'm sorry".

And so he sat.

He almost started writing again, then stopped. He refused to congratulate him.

He broke four more pencils, eventually.

The dawn was just coming up on this, the last day they had to stay hidden before they could return home. When, finally, the words came.

Harry-

It's good you didn't die.

-Dudley

Exhausted by the unusual mental exercises he had engaged in that night, Dudley seriously considered going straight to bed.

But he knew he would have no peace until he was rid of the ruddy letter.

Heaving a sigh, he hefted his bulk out of the chair and left his room.

He wondered if he could get Dedalus to let him use an owl.

**Next:** Pureblood


	22. Ernie

Thanks for all the reviews!

Chapter 22: Pureblood

He's a ninth generation pureblood, you know.

It's hard for him to believe, now, that there had been a time when that meant something to him.

That there had been a time when it was something to be proud of.

Ernie watches as final preparations are made before the start of the funeral. He has nothing to do at this one, so he lets his mind wander as he waits.

He thinks of his parents, who did not fight, but are only too happy to brag to anyone who'll listen about how their son helped Harry Potter defeat Voldemort.

He thinks of Hannah, who worked with him for two years as a prefect, who risked it with him to join the DA, who almost died with him during the battle.

He thinks of Luna, who was the first to see the dementors, and the one to lead him and Seamus to the rescue.

He thinks of Seamus, who fought with him through most of the battle, who saved his life countless times.

He thinks of Dean, who spent a year on the run, hiding from those who would call themselves "pure".

He thinks of Hermione, who hadn't even known there was such a thing as magic until she turned eleven, yet knew more about it than the rest of their year combined.

He thinks of Harry, who did what no one thought possible, who fought and beat incredible odds, who never gave up, even when everyone was against him.

Ernie is broken out of his reverie as a tiny wizard at the front calls for everyone's attention. As the funeral starts, he looks over at the grieving Weasleys, who's eyes never leave Fred's casket. There are some who give purebloods a good name. Who make the distinction worth something.

After the funeral is over, and he's given his condolences, Ernie trudges across the cemetery, to the next one. They've been having at least two or three funerals a day, in an attempt to put the fallen to rest as quickly as possible. He heads to the far side of the graveyard, where another group is gathered. This group is smaller, and it's mostly muggles. Ernie feels out of place here. Spotting Hannah, Luna, and Neville (now there was someone who exemplified what a pureblood _could_ be) as they arrive and stand at the back, he heads over to them. They watch as the same wizard who officiated over Fred's funeral steps to the front, now dressed in muggle clothing.

"We are gathered today in memory of Colin Creevey..."

Next: Dueling Champion


	23. Filius

Author's Note: Sorry for the long break! School's really whipped my butt, but I'm out now for a couple of weeks, so I should be able to get back on schedule now. Thanks for sticking with it!

**Chapter 23:** Dueling Champion

He'd been a dueling champion, once.

When he was a young man, he had dueled often. It'd been like a game to him, the challenge and the thrill. He'd always been accomplished at charms, and they served him well, in his younger days.

It's hard for him to remember those days, now.

Filius Flitwick volunteered to help move the dead Death Eaters to another room after the battle, he didn't feel it was right to require any of the students to do it. They had already asked so much of them tonight. He soon found himself working side by side with Oliver Wood. He remembered with a start that Oliver was no longer a student, no longer a child, though still so young. Filius moved two bodies, then went to third, when he stopped suddenly.

It was Antonin Dolohov.

Even when he was younger, when he had dueled almost daily, when it had come as naturally to him as breathing, he had never killed someone. Never. It had been a sport to him, then, and you didn't kill people over a sport. Filius stood for a long moment, staring at Dolohov's lifeless face, until Oliver came up behind him.

"Professor, is everything okay?"

He looked up at his companion's concerned face. He nodded, for once grateful that his voice was naturally squeaky. "Yes, yes, everything's fine." Readying his nerves, he raised his wand and muttered the _locomotor_ spell, trying very hard not to look at the body he moved.

Twenty minutes later, they were finally done. Filius and Oliver returned to the Great Hall, and he watched the young man head towards his young friends. He looked around, at the living; chatting, crying and consoling. And he looked at the dead, where they still lay in their place of honor. They were all so very young. Sitting down, he suddenly felt impossibly old.

He'd been a dueling champion, once.

But that had been a long time ago.

Next: Duty


	24. Firenze

Chapter 24: Duty

Firenze watched as Bane walked away, towards the other centaurs. Still lying on the floor in the corner, he mulled over the offer he had just received. He could go home, back to the forest. But was it still his home? He didn't know anymore.

He knew why he had been banished. He had had a duty to the herd.

But he had also had a duty to Harry, to Dumbledore, to Hogwarts, to the magic world in general.

Hadn't he?

Centaurs, with all they knew, with all their insights to the future, didn't they have some sort of duty to those who could not see, to those who did not know?

From his position, he could see all of the Great Hall. He watched as Poppy Pomfrey continued to go from person to person, helping who she could, taking those too seriously injured to the healers from St. Mungos to transport. He watched Filius Flitwick move the bodies of dead Death Eaters out of the hall. He watched Pomona Sprout and Horace Slughorn, as they comforted students and reassured parents. He watched Sybill Trelawney, standing in the middle of the hall, apparently unaware of the large gash on her forehead and running down her cheek. He watched Minerva McGonagall, as she somehow kept control of it all. And he knew. _This _was his family. _This_ was his home now.

Dumbledore might be dead, but his duty to Hogwarts had not yet ended. Somehow, that thought calmed him.

Firenze struggled up to his feet. Painfully, he made his way to the window, and looked out into the new night, one without fighting and death, a night of peace.

Mars' light had dimmed.

**Next:** Beauty


	25. Fleur

Chapter 25: Beauty

Her husband had been beautiful, once.

Truth be told (and that's what she did, she always told the truth, because in France that's just what you _do_, but in England people always seemed to mistake her for being rude), that was what had first attracted her to him.

But that's not what made her fall in love with him, and she knows that that's why she still loves him now, even though he's not beautiful anymore.

Fleur pauses and her hand stills, brush clenched tight, half way down her hair. She looks in the mirror and scrutinizes her appearance. There are bags under her eyes, now. They've faded slightly in the weeks since the battle, but they haven't completely vanished, yet. She's not sure they ever will. Her face looks paler, more drawn. Fleur looks at the thin line running down from underneath her ear to the top of her neck. It's already very light, almost impossible to see if you don't know it's there.

But _she_ knows it's there. And it bothers her that it is. Almost as much as it bothers her that she has no idea which spell caused it, which foe created it.

Fleur resumes her brushing. It's silly, she knows to worry about her appearance. Especially considering what Bill looks like now. _His _appearance certainly doesn't bother _her_. Honestly, she doesn't even notice it, most days. She has more important things to be concerned with. Fleur shakes her head in self-admonishment. She _certainly_ has more important things to worry about than what _she _looks like. Finally finished, she takes one last glance in the mirror, before she leaves with Bill to help with the rebuilding of Hogwarts. She nods in satisfaction.

She's still good-looking enough for the both of them.

Next: To Tell a Joke


	26. Fred

Chapter 26: To Tell a Joke

Author's Note: I apologize in advance for the truly bad jokes I'm about to foist upon you. Fred's POV.

_Knock, knock_

_Who's there?_

_Goul._

_Goul, who?_

_Goul find your brother!_

They'd been inseparable from birth. Hell, they'd been inseparable _before _birth. Their mother had long since stopped trying to understand how one always knew where the other was. They just always did.

_What's the worst season to be at Hogwarts?_

_Finals season._

They'd never admit it (except to each other), but they really were just a _tiny _bit frightened their first day at Hogwarts. Not nearly as big of wrecks as little Ronniekins was, of course. But they forgot all their fears by the end of their first week, when they found a secret passage behind Gregory the Smarmy.

_What do you get a pet dragon for Christmas?_

_A flame-retardant ball of yarn._

Sure, they were troublemakers. Yes, they had a drawer to themselves in Filch's cabinet. Obviously, they weren't like Bill, or Charlie, or Percy, or even Ron or Ginny. But there pranks were all in good fun. Mostly.

_What do you call a potion that repels repellant teachers?_

_Snape-be-gone._

They might have gone too far with Umbridge, but then, the old bat had deserved it. And much, much more. Besides it gave them the perfect opportunity to test out some of their inventions on someone other than themselves.

_What do you get when you cross a pygmy puff and a werewolf?_

_Tiny pink and purple tufts of fur._

Despite how blase they acted, they really were gobsmacked by the success of their shop. In their wildest dreams, when they were experimenting with filched ingredients and scrounging up money however they could, they never imagined it would turn out this well. But it sure was nice to finally be able to pay their parents back a little, after all of the grief the two had caused them.

_What do you get when you let down your guard for a split second to joke with your brother in the middle of the biggest battle the wizarding world has ever seen?_

_A laughing ghost._

He wishes he could blame Percy (it's not like he got the chance to do _that_ very often). But the fact was, it was his own damn fault. Everyone had always said that he and George didn't seem to realize that there were times when joking wasn't appropriate. He wishes he had listened. Maybe then he'd still be laughing.

He hopes George keeps laughing for him.

Next: The Other Half of His Soul


	27. George

Author's Note: Thanks so much for the reviews! It's nice to know people are sticking with it! I also wanted to mention something I should have for the last chapter, since I believe in giving credit where credit is due. The structure of the chapter was based on a CSI:NY fic I read years ago (I don't remember the title or author, sorry). It was the same format, except the author used facts in between paragraphs instead of jokes. Anyways, here's George!

Chapter 27: The Other Half of His Soul

Fred's face was the first one he ever saw.

His first word was "Fred" (well, really it was "Gred", but they assume he was trying to say Fred).

Fred was the reason he learned how to play Quidditch. He had wanted to be like Charlie, and George had to do whatever Fred did.

Fred came up with their first practical joke.

He was also the one who had the idea to try it out on Percy.

And ran the fastest, afterwards.

Fred went first at the sorting. After his was over, George wasn't afraid anymore. Fred had gotten into Gryffindor, so George knew that was where he would be sorted to, as well.

Fred was the one who found the passage behind Gregory the Smarmy.

He made George be the one to go into first, though.

Fred was his other half. He wasn't just his twin, he was a _part_ of him. They weren't whole, without each other. Each _needed_ the other, in order to work properly. Just like a person needed two ears to hear properly.

But now George only had half of his ears.

And just like his soul, the missing part would never grow back.

Next: Young Girl


	28. Ginny

**Chapte 28:** Young Girl

She was too young.

She was _always _too young.

Too young to play Quidditch with her brothers.

Too young to go to Hogwarts.

Too young to date.

Too young to love Harry Potter.

Too young to fight.

Too young to kill.

Too young to die.

She held George's hand that first night when he refused to leave Fred's body.

She held Harry together in the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat.

She held her mother up during Fred's funeral.

She held all of her emotions and fears and grief and pain inside of herself, working instead to save everyone else.

Ginny Weasley knew she wasn't young anymore.

Next: Out of Mind


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